Of Yearbooks and Golf Courses
by FerryBerry
Summary: S2. Santana discovers a particularly well-hidden secret of one Rachel Berry. Pezberry friendship.
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All belongs to _Glee_ writers and creators.

**Part 1**

Another year gone by.

What a corny ass way to start, huh? But it's true. Another year's gone by and not a whole lot has changed. I mean, sure, we lost another competition because the judges rightfully hate it when Frankenteen and Mayor Munchkin sing together—seriously, they sound like a flock of seagulls (and not the band, because that would be too cool for them) fighting over a bread crumb, and it always looks like Finnocence is going to pull a giant from 'Jack and the Beanstalk' and eat her. And me, Britt, and Q are off the Cheerios now, and you know, that one lady died. I may possibly have had like three huge revelations about myself at once, too. But overall, we're pretty much the same ragtag bunch of losers who hate each other.

We can't even hide it in the damn yearbook picture. Look at this. This was from half a year ago and you can still see it. There I am in all my smoking hotness, burning laser holes into Wheels' head. Maybe I'll draw that in. Excellent, flames bursting out his head. And then Britts is totally checking me out even though she's on Dickless' lap. Puckerwhipped is flexing his guns, but he is so drooling at Zizes. I'm totes adding a little slobber to his mouth. Ha!

Zizes couldn't stop stuffing her face full of Hostess long enough for them to take the damn picture, so of course Wheezy is staring at her with mock disgust while secretly hoping she'll drop a crumb. Maybe she needs some slobber, too. Then you've got Dwarf giving Finnessa the doe eyes—she needs antlers—while he's all about glaring back at Trouty Mouth—let's give them boobs and Lady Lips can have a fish hook hanging from his mouth. And of course, then there's Q with that evil, bitchtastic smirk on her face. We may have made up and all, but sorry, Q, you're getting a mustache.

The only ones who don't look evil or like they want to kill/hump something are the Asians. That won't do, I'm making them look like evil ninjas.

If you're surprised, I really don't know why. You think just because glee club is the best part of my day and I've learned that bullying is mean and shit means I'm going to stop doodling in the yearbook? Come on, it's practically tradition. Besides, I was way worse to the football team's page. I gave them all lady makeovers.

I also may happen to be skipping class because my history teacher is an asswipe who is making us watch a documentary on _plumbing_. Seriously, I don't care how the prairie people took care of business. In fact, I don't care how _anyone_ takes care of business. It's actually kind of sick to think about. So sue me if I find this more interesting—and want to look busy so the crackpot librarian doesn't catch me.

I try to flip to the next page so I can demolish the golf team's page next (they may be my kindred spirits or some shit, but I can't let them get away and arouse suspicion with anyone who happens to recognize my artwork). Except the pages are stuck together. Annoying. I wiggle my blue pen into the crack between the pages and pull, and with a crack they come apart. I smirk with triumph and swiftly move to get on the golf team's dude makeovers—they all really look like they could use mustaches like Q, and maybe a few sombr—

Hold the fucking phone. Rachel Berry is on the _golf team_? I squint a few times just to make sure it's not like after image from seeing her on every freaking page so far, but she's still there, big annoying-as-fuck grin plastered on her face, golf club slung over her shoulder and—oh, Christ. She has on a _plaid kilt_.

These golf girls really need to be more careful with their leering, too, because the one behind the dwarf is totes looking at her ass and…wait a second. Okay, this could've totally been passed off as the midget's need to be as irritating as possible and maybe like to honor her dads like in those PFLAG meets Hummel set up, but not now. Not when _she_ is leering at a couple of B-cups.

My jaw could not be closer to the floor.

Holy. Sweet. Hell. Berry's a fucking lesbo!


	2. Part 2

**Part 2**

Last glee club meet of the year. Last day of school. I am so damn lucky I found that tell-all picture of Berry yesterday. This is going to be _the_ highlight of my day.

My too-cheerful grin already scared the pants off Trouty Mouth. He scurried off to Wheezer's side faster than a jackrabbit on speed when he saw it. Those two are so obvious, and if it weren't for a bigger, better, badder target on my radar, I would be outing them in a way that would probably start an all-out screaming match. Lucky for them Berry has proved to be such a big fish to fry.

And there she is, strutting in with those knee-highs. Oh, yeah, I know what those are for now. Wanky.

I can tell my smirk is now freaking the little closet case out now, because she does one of those double takes and quickens her pace. Like that'll do her any good. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, Berry. She gives one of those big ass grins to Finncompetent that I can totally see through now and they exchange barf-worthy smooches on cheeks before she sits next to him, smoothing her skirt under her ass. It is a pretty good ass. I can see why Nameless Golf Team Chick was staring. All plump and round and luscious.

Still…I like _that_ ass better. I grin at Britts and she gives me one back before sitting next to me, oblivious to my scheming, which is probably be better in the long run. If she knew, she'd be all nice and shit and lecture me about outing people who probably just aren't ready to be outed like me. Whatevs, it's time for Berry to come out.

_Finally_, Curly comes waltzing in with his dorky smile, setting his briefcase on the piano. "Okay, everyone, this is our last meet until next year and—" He sighs epically and I smirk. Here comes opportunity #1. "Yes, Rachel?"

"Mr. Schuester, I would just like to say that I think it is a phenomenal waste of a valuable chunk of time to fail to set up any meetings over the summer. Couldn't we at least have once a month gatherings to encourage team unity?" She pauses for the millisecond it takes her to think of her next paragraph, and I jump on it.

"Yeah, we could go golfing," I offer with a twisted smirk, and I feel a few eyes fall on me. Berry's brow wrinkles at me briefly and I raise my eyebrows back, never dropping the smirk. I'm on to you, Berry.

She looks away. "Precisely. Or even an activity more suited to our male members' sensibilities, like bowling." She smiles widely at Finn, who's grinning at her like she is the center of the universe, and it clicks.

Holy freaking A. This whole time I could've noticed and not once did I catch it. Every time she feels a little gay, she brings up Finnept. No wonder she seems so damn obsessed!

"That's…not a bad idea, Rachel," the vest admits grudgingly. "I think it'd be good for you guys to set something up together, so I'll leave it to you." Wow, delegating shit he doesn't want to do to us. I never saw it coming. Ass. "Anyway, I know you're all excited to perform your end of the year songs, but before we do that, I'd like to take a few minutes to just sit back and…appreciate each other. So if you had a favorite performance we saw in glee club this year, just raise your hand and tell us what you liked about it."

It's like God is handing these opportunities down to me on a silver platter. My hand shoots up faster than Berry can blink.

"Oh, Santana, go ahead." He looks so surprised. Come on, I can be nice. Sorta.

I grin and put on my sincere face. "Okay. Q." She looks at me skeptically, eyebrow raised, but this isn't about her. I smile down at my target. "Berry." She whips around, brow wrinkling again. "Your mashup of 'I Feel Pretty/Unpretty' was some mad good stuff." She's already smiling and glancing back at Quinn, ready to accept the compliment. Not so fast, Berry. "I thought it was really brave of you guys to…explore the nature of sapphic drama."

Yes, the Cheshire cat _is_ my favorite character in 'Alice in Wonderland.'

The dwarf's mouth is hanging open, but I've got to say, I'm impressed. Soon enough her jaw clicks shut and then she's working to recover with, "Well, thank you, Santana, but that wasn't really what—"

"I mean the way you guys just opened up like that…it was just really, really touching." I sink back in my chair with a sage nod and try my hardest not to grin when I hear the other glee clubbers agreeing.

"Yeah, it was great, ladies. Wonderful comment, Santana." Again, with the surprised. "Anyone else?"

Berry is looking contemplative now. I see her hand snaking over to Finnocence's, looking for that oh-so sweet reassurance that nobody thinks she's as gay as a unicorn under a rainbow.

I smirk to myself. Don't worry, Berry. This hour has just barely started, and I've got _so_ much more waiting for you.


	3. Part 3

**Part 3**

Everyone in this room is so full of shit. I mean, really, _Finn_ is complimenting _Sam_ on his performance of 'Baby'? Yeah freaking right. First of all, that was the lamest thing I've seen since Artie (yeah, I'm insensitive; get over it), and second, way to rub in the whole Quinn thing, jackass. Thank God Mike moves us on from the awkwardness that is those giant lips pouting while Toyota 'subtly' rubs his arm. Dear Lord these people need a lesson in sneaky.

"Brittany?" Dax Boy calls when the Asian is done boring us all with how much every single one of his girlfriend's 30 second numbers touched him this year.

"Mike and I were totally awesome when we danced for 'Valerie', but I think Santana got, like, completely overlooked and she was really hot when she sang that song, so." She gives me this big, heartwarming smile and I can't help but grin.

"Thanks, Britts." I can't help but lean into her a little bit and she leans back until we bump shoulders and burst into giggles. I can feel Dumbass glaring at me, so I flip him the bird while pretending to rub my jaw.

"That was definitely a top-notch performance." What a pandering jackass. I smirk mockingly at his thumbs-up. "Uh, Rachel."

Oh, excellent. I sit up straighter, readying myself as she turns to smile almost bashfully at Mercedes.

"I know I sang 'Take Me or Leave Me' with you, Mercedes, but I just wanted to compliment you again on, well, how well you did and how much your voice has grown over the past two years. You blew me away, especially on that number, and I really enjoyed singing it with you," Berry says sincerely, and there's no flirtation in her tone, but really, you thought that would stop me? Especially when she's bringing up the one song she sang that's _about_ lesbians? Yeah, I don't think so.

Wheezy grins happily. "Well, thanks, Rachel, but you were - "

"Oh, my God, yes. That number was just awesome," I cut in enthusiastically, and I know everyone's startled by the outburst but I ignore them, focusing on Berry's surprised face. "It was so realistic. I mean, I seriously thought you guys were breaking up because Berry kept flirting with other women." I pause, watching her dropped jaw. "You weren't, though, right?"

Mercedes just snorts, but Berry loses her shit and I have to stop myself from echoing Benz over there because she just looks so _panicked_. It's hysterical.

"I—"

"Oh, totally. Mercedes and Rachel have smoking hot singing chemistry," I hear Britts say and I seriously could not love her more. "Like it would be weird if you were actually together, but when you sing, it's like your voices make a lady baby." I love you, I love you, I love you. Berry's head looks like it's about to explode. "Like Q and Rachel! You guys' voices are hot together, too, but I think they would actually look smoking together in like real life, right, San?"

I lean around her, pretending to consider it as I take in the ghastly pale complexion of one Rachel Berry. She looks like she might throw up at any moment, while Q-Tip just looks…aggravated. She's stiff and her face is set in stone like it is when she's trying to cover something up. I tilt my head. Hm. Odd.

"Totally," I agree simply, smiling at Britt as I sit back.

"Okay, are you on crack?" Q explodes, rolling her eyes so far back I'm pretty sure they're going to actually get stuck this time. Still, she looks shifty. This is something to keep my eye on, I think.

"Yes, this discussion is entirely pointless, nonsensical, and irrelevant," Berry agrees hurriedly, and I just smirk at her. She falters and I flash a grin in triumph. I am totally spooking her and it's awesome.

"Yeah, that would be totally weird," Finnadequate says with a chuckle, and both girls are suddenly quiet. "Plus they're both straight, and taken." He smiles at Berry and squeezes his arm around her shoulder.

She abruptly turns to Curly. "Can we move on?"

"Right. Okay, who'd like to start us off on performances?" he asks, shifting gears from his obvious discomfort with the lesbian talk. Hypocritical bigot.

Everyone's silent. I'd totally offer to go, but my special guest star isn't here yet. Plus, my little surprise number has to wait until the end. Never pull out your big guns first thing.

"I'll go," Berry finally huffs, and the vest sighs but sits while she moves to the front of the room.

"Don't trip on your spikes up there!" I shout, and she instantly tenses, taking longer to recover this time before she turns around to serenade us.

I smirk and get comfortable. No way there isn't going to be some kind of lesbian joke I can make out of this song. All I've got to do is wait.


	4. Part 4

**Part 4**

"I would just like to say before I begin that the song I'm about to perform isn't a reflection on anyone in this room or any scenarios I may have been in with anyone in this room." _That's_ Berry's opening? Way to make everyone super uncomfortable waiting to see what bad thing she's going to say about us via song. "Ever since New York," here she smiles fondly at Hummel, who grins back, "I've sort of been in a 'Wicked' mood and - "

"Wanky." Damn, I'm good. I didn't even have to think about it before that popped out. I smirk when she falters and wrinkles her brow at me again.

"An-and 'No Good Deed' seemed a bit too strong for the occasion," she finishes, then clears her throat and steadies herself before nodding to the band and starts crooning 'I'm Not That Girl.'

Kill. Me. Now. Finncoherent is wearing this stupid look on his face that's supposed to look sympathetically sad, but really just looks constipated because he's trying to fight his joy that she's pining for him again (what a load of bullshit). Q is already leaning back in her chair, arms crossed and a huff on her lips, looking utterly annoyed yet again, and everyone else is rapt with attention - whether it's on Berry's performance or not is debatable.

I almost wonder if she just picked this song just now to try and dissuade my very strong notion (knowledge) about her epic levels of gay. But the band already knew what she was singing, so it can't be that. It also can't be that she actually feels this way about Frankenteen. She's not even looking at him, and when she does, it's with that totally fake, see-through look of dopey love that I can't believe I ever bought before. Must be she was feeling a little too gay for some other reason this week. Hmm.

When she's finally done, everyone claps, and I bounce into action, clapping as loud as I can and blurting, "_Awesome_ job, Berry. Totally deserves a gold star." I pause for effect and smirk at her blush, and just as she's about to thank me, I strike. "Are you one?"

Her jaw drops and her cheeks flush even more, and the only other people who seem to get what I'm talking about are Britts, Zizes, Puck, and Q - and only one of them is rolling their eyes. The rest look like they want to roll on the floor and just let the laughter out, and I really can't blame them, because Berry's face is hilarious right now. I just smirk.

"I-I don't believe the status of my virginity is any of your business, Santana," she recovers and scurries back to her seat as fast as she can, wrapping Finn's orangutan arm over her shoulder and cowering.

Like that'll save her.

"Whatever. I do hope you realize Elphaba was totally gay in that song, though," I comment, shrugging.

Berry is again looking at me with bug eyes, but it's Hummel who says, "That doesn't make any sense. She wasn't jealous of Fiyero; she was jealous of Galinda."

"_Please_. I'm sorry, but 'gold hair with a gentle curl'?" I emphasize, folding my arms as I stare him down. "Um, notice inconsequential details about your rival much?"

This is awesome. Berry just sank down like a foot in her chair and snuggled into Finnvalid like he's a flipping life jacket. And don't tell me I imagined it, my peripheral vision is as awesome as my breasts.

"And don't even get me started on the 'lithe limb' thing. She may as well have just come out and said she's really flexible in bed."

"You're insane," Hummel says simply, then turns to look at Mr. Useless. "But since this is already a well-established fact, is it all right if Sam and I perform our long-awaited duet?"

"The floor is yours."

The boys stand and I feel Britt lean into me, so I lean back, though I keep my eyes on Berry, who has progressed to kissing the Jolly Green Giant right on the lips. Ew.

"Do you think Glinda was a cheerleader?" Brittany whispers to me, and I smirk.

"Maybe. Why?"

"Well, because that one time you said we were really awesome at sex because we're so flexible, and then you said it was because we're cheerleaders. Does that mean all cheerleaders are really awesome at sex?"

I think about it. It definitely makes sense in Brittany Logic, though I really doubt all cheerleaders are as good at sex as me and Britts.

I smile. "Probably."

"Oh." She frowns, and then suddenly she's turning and just as Frog Boy has his guitar strap over his head and both guys at the front are grinning at Mercedes, she shouts across the room, "Q, you should have sex."

Quinn has never been able to handle Brittany's non sequiturs very well, so it's not surprising when her mouth gapes open and her eyes bug out. But it is still funny as all hell.

"Wh-wh-what? Why?"

"Because you were a cheerleader like me and S, which means you're awesome at it, and good sex makes people happy, and you should want to make people happy, so it's kind of selfish of you to keep your awesome sex to yourself."

I'm pretty sure I just saw a tear leak from Puckerman's eye he's laughing so hard.

"She's probably afraid to get knocked up again," Zizes comments.

"Just do it with a girl, then. Best way to go, right, Berry?" I prompt.

I smirk at her for a moment while she squirms, but that is way too much squirming for it just to be from me.

"Just because my fathers are gay does not mean I know anything about same sex relations, Santana Lopez," she finally spits out, glaring at me. "And…wh-what Quinn does and with who is none of my business whatsoever. If she should choose to experiment, then bravo for her, but other than that, I…I have no interest in the matter."

She promptly turns in her seat, arms and legs crossed and a pout on her lips and a grin splits my face, because this is just too good. Quinn+sex=a turned on Berry.

Sorry, Q, but you've just been drafted into the cause for dragging Rachel Berry kicking and screaming from her steel reinforced closet.


	5. Part 5

**Part 5**

It's been about twenty minutes, give or take, which means it's been too long since I've made a gay joke. You're probably thinking that after Hummel and Evans performed their supremely awkward version of 'You've Got a Friend in Me' (seriously, some drool was peeking out of those honking lips while he stared all googly eyed at his hot chocolate of love, and the twelve year old girl just looked friggin' bored with the whole thing) and dedicated it to Jones would've been the perfect time to strike, but I could already see Berry tensing, waiting for me to strike. She even glared at me, as though she could use her psychic powers or some shit to will me into silence, and she paused before every compliment and criticism she gave the two surprisingly receptive jackasses, like she was making sure there wasn't anything I could make a gay innuendo out of.

So I didn't.

Instead I just sat back and smiled, though the smiling part was tough to do during Finngrate's almost completely standstill version of 'I'll Be.' Really I just spent the whole time grinding my teeth, until Britts finally pointed out to me that his fly was undone. Then we spent it giggling at his Hulk boxers. He could've at least gone for something that's not completely lame even in the nerd world. Like Superman.

Berry's face looked so pinched from spending the whole thing holding her face in a lovestruck position I thought she was going to need someone to wrench her mouth open just to unlock her jaw. Like maybe Q's tongue. And yes, I did seriously consider saying this, but she again did the glare thing, so I decided to let her get comfortable. Lulling your victim into a false sense of security is always an excellent tactic. It seems like it would give them time to cool down, but if you wait _just_ long enough, it actually snaps their control faster.

And it worked like a charm on Berry. After Puckzilla (complete with brand new collar and chain) and Asian One danced their way through a cover of 'I Like It' dedicated to their respective bitches, she only glanced at me once before making her comment. Zizes stuck with her wheelhouse and another song by The Waitresses - 'No Guilt', after which Berry was nearly back to total bounce power. I like it a hell of a lot better when she's on edge and scared shitless.

During Toyota and Wheels' semi-predictable choice of 'What's My Name', I was a little busy making sure Dickhead kept his eyes off Britts. Which she happened to enjoy, seeing as I had my lips in that spot under her ear that makes her melt every blessed time for most of the thing. And of course I threw out a dig at the jackass' performance when they were done, just to make sure he got the message good and clear. Telling him he's really improved from sounding like an answering machine message recorded by a bunch of cats being bathed probably wasn't the nicest, but do I give a fuck? That would be no.

It got Berry grinning, that's for sure, and I knew she thought the heat was off. Oh, how wrong she is.

But now that she's relaxed, it's time to get started again. When Gutless calls a five minute break and scurries off to flirt with the soulless ginger, I examine my nails for a moment and heave a huff that grabs the attention of everyone in my radius.

"Shit. Anyone got a nail file?" I ask, and smirk when Berry instantly goes to dig in her purse.

The girl is seriously desperate if she's hurrying to meet _my_ demands. So pathetic. But it does make her the fastest, so I'm not bitching. Instead I just go to grab it from her, then pause and peer at her own nails. And I'm not even kidding when I say those things are lesbian short.

She gets antsy almost right away. "What?"

She goes to take her hand back now that I've got the nail file, so I snatch her hand and look closer, putting on a perfectly suspicious look when I pull back and say, "Nothing. Your nails are just _really_ short."

I let her go and she wrinkles her brow at me again, rubbing her fingers self-consciously. "Okay…."

I start filing absently with the puke-bright-pink thing and let the hum of conversation and smacking lips filter between us for a moment before I say, "Is it so they don't stab through the fabric in your golf gloves, or…?"

Berry's shoulders instantly go so tight that even Finnconsiderate notices and starts rubbing her neck, peering at her in concern and asking, "You okay?"

Like he didn't hear any of the conversation that just happened. Oh. Dear. God.

"Fine," Berry bites, and the puppy dog droops, but she's too distracted with suddenly glaring at me to notice. Excellent. I'm distracting her from tending to her cover. The beard is being trimmed. "Is there something you would like to say to me, Santana?"

I smirk and lean back, letting my shoulder brush with Britt's. She smiles widely at me, but I notice she's not the only one paying attention to the conversation. And no, Finncompetent isn't the one. He's too busy moping because his sweetheart snapped at him. Poor baby.

Q-Tip, however, is looking on with disinterested interest, the way we bitches do when we're really interested in a conversation but don't want to look like it. Interesting.

"Is there something you want to say to me?" I bounce back easily.

"No." It's immediate. Hm. She may be on to me. Finally.

"Then no," I say, and smirk.

She falters. It's unnerving her and I'm so giddy I can barely contain it. Especially when I see a little something-something else that she fails miserably at hiding. Seriously, these people need lessons in sneaky. Her 'inconspicuous' glance Q's way is brief, but so damn obvious I almost want to do her a favor and teach her how to use her peripherals. Almost. Mostly it would be so I don't have to watch her fail so epically at something so simple. It's like physically painful watching how stupid these people are.

Anyway, like I said, it's brief, but Q notices, too. She looks away immediately, busies herself with her skirt, and Berry sinks back in her chair. She's still not noticing that Frankenteen is feeling all wounded.

Damn. I've got to get on this Q angle. Who knew she'd turn out to be such a valuable weapon in breaking down Rachel Berry's closet door?


	6. Part 6

**Part 6**

I think I managed to make Berry forget about her nail file. Let's see, I got it about a minute into our five minute break, Thinks With His Dick (that's Schue's Indian name) got back about five minutes after the five minute break, and we've been sitting here for another minute listening to lame ass excuses about how he 'got held up.' I'm sure a part of him was up. So that means I've had the damn thing for ten minutes and Berry still hasn't realized it.

I'm considering throwing it at the back of her head. Sure, it wouldn't really aid me in the whole getting her out of the closet thing, but that's no reason to deny myself some fun. Except…Britts is giving me the eye, like she knows what I'm about to do. Come on, I could be doing anything in this position, I don't _have_ to be aiming for her head just because I have it angled at her and happen to be squinting down the length of it.

Her eye narrows further and I huff. Fine.

"Berry!" I bark, and, well…Britt can't get mad at _me_ if I throw it a little too quickly for the dwarf to catch up with and it hits her in the head, right?

She whips around in her chair just as I toss it over and quickly fumbles to catch it, but it trips up in her fingers and clatters to the floor. She shoots me a frown and I just shrug, smiling innocently at Brittany, who gives me an approving grin. I'm a little dazzled by her smile for a minute before something interesting catches my eye, and I rush my focus over to where Q-Tip is reaching for the nail file for Berry, Berry Quite Contrary.

She snatches it up and hands it over, and they both pause and then—holy freakin' shit, they're totally eye-fucking each other in the middle of glee club! I mean, granted, everyone is pretending to listen to Curly ramble on about…you know, something, but I'm clearly not and I'm pretty sure the temperature in the room went up _just_ because they're looking at each other.

Damn, Britts was right. Those two would be weirdly smoking together.

Berry's face flushes all pink and I'm tempted to look away because with the nail file, that's just too much pink for someone's eyes to take in without needing to vomit somewhere. But this could be important, so I watch as she tugs it out of Q's hand and mutters a thanks before turning around—and instantly reaching for Finncontinent's hand. Two words: Jack. Pot.

"All right, so who would like to give their end of the year performance next?" Mr. Schue calls, and I instantly nudge Brittany to buy me some time with Q-Pie.

"Me and Tina will go!" she yelps instantly, and I grin at her. "But we have costumes in our lockers."

"Oh, well, take your time; we'll just be on hold till you get back," Mildly Useful says and smiles.

Britts squeezes my arm with a smile before grabbing Tina and skipping out the room with her, leaving the rest of us to chat and make out and look at sheet music while we wait. Of course, the only people looking at sheet music are Schueful and Berry Canary—while Finnsatiable is trying to get her to do the making out thing. That's not working out so well for him, which is good for me.

I yawn and stretch a couple times, looking around idly before I let my gaze land on my target. And of course she's reading. Well, she has all summer to finish the damn book. She's on my time right now.

I slide out of my chair and plop into the one next to hers, calling her attention away from the pages as I say, "Yo, Q. I was thinking—"

Quinn immediately frowns at me, looking like a trypanophobic facing a tray of syringes. What? I know big words.

"What?" I parrot my thoughts, frowning back at her.

"Every time you start a conversation with me that way, it ends with one of us stuck with an ice pack and a screeching mother hen for the next month."

Is that true? Every time? I think back.

Let's see, first time was when I told her I was thinking she should lay off the Twinkies because she was getting too hard to hold on top of the pyramid. Then there was that time I decided we should replace all of our Chem teacher's chemicals with various alcoholic beverages from Puck's mom's liquor cabinet because Puck got us in trouble when he was cheating during a test and we failed it with him….

Good times, except for Q's swollen ankle from tripping over the coffee table in the dark of the Puckerman living room. It also wasn't fun having to run from a pissed off Jewish mama with a baseball bat while carrying her piggy back all the way home. And then telling her that I told her to lay off the Twinkies when we finally got back into my room didn't help my case any. But at least the slap woke Britts up and we got to play sexy nurse after I kicked Q out (okay, so I was nice and drove her to the emergency room and me and B stayed with her until her parents got there, but still…sexy nurse was fuuun).

Wow, I guess it really is true. Ah, well. I heave a shrug.

"Whatever. I was thinking about our little convo back in New York," I say slyly, and Quinn is already going rigid.

"What about it?" she bites out.

I glance sideways at Berry, but she's not even paying attention. Soon enough.

"Well, it didn't occur to me at the time because you were all weepy and shit, but what exactly did you mean when you said you weren't 'that' into that?" I even use air quotes, and smirk when Q's face goes a little pink. "I mean, were you talking about threesomes or just lesbian sex, or…?"

"Shh!" she hisses, when there's a little dip in the hum of conversation.

Berry is squirming a little bit, moving to hear a little better. I grin.

"Or did you mean having someone go do—"

"_Santana_! Seriously, _shut __up_!" Q barks, furiously red. It's cute, like a little girl who got her skirt lifted up in the middle of the hallway for the first time. "I…I meant having sex with my _best friends_ in any capacity, separately or together. It's just…weird and gross and no, okay?"

"Okay, sheesh, take it easy there, Mother Mary." I roll my eyes for effect, glancing down at a squirming Berry on the way. I wait until Q-Tip is opening her book back up to where to left off, letting them both squirm a little more, before I say, "So you are a little bit into that?"

Quinn smacks the book down on her lap, jaw grinding and eyes ablaze as she glares at me. "What?"

"Well, you said you weren't 'that' into it," I say casually.

"I…I-I just…"

"Yeah?"

"I-I meant…"

"You _meant_…?"

This is more fun than it should be. Eh, I don't really care, watching both Q and Berry squirming in their chairs like they've got ants in their pants is definitely worth ignoring any worry about my sadistic tendencies.

"I meant I'm not that…into it with…you know, my best friends," she finally spits out, regaining a little bit of her composure.

"OH!" I exclaim, and now pretty much everyone is staring at us. God, this is fun. I wish I had this kind of ammo on Berry, because that would be even better. See? I'm nice to Q. "So if it were a _different_ couple of people, you'd be totally cool with a threesome?"

"No—S! No, that's…that's disgusting," she grumbles, turning a certain shade of pink that has me convinced she actually means that one.

"Why?" I prod, noting Berry is listening intently and, well, maybe this is my way of sort of, kind of being nice to her a little bit in a teensy, tiny bit of amends for busting her chops today. Not that I plan on stopping, but maybe a little knowledge about Q's sexual preferences will be helpful to her in the future.

"Because!" She looks completely exasperated, so I give her my practiced 'serious' face and she sighs, turning to face me head on. "Santana, have you ever known me to share my toys? No. So why would I want to share _people_?"

Damn, good point. Berry is smiling like she just won one of those…you know, the Broadway one. Trophy thing. Heat's been on Q long enough, time to swivel it back to Berry, since that's kind of the point of this anyway.

"Something funny in those Celine Dion Hits of the 90s songs, Berry?"

"What? N-no. I…I was just…"

"Eavesdropping?"

"No, of course not! I—"

"It's okay, Rachel." Okay, that wasn't me.

I glance suspiciously to my right, and sure enough, Quinn is looking at Berry with this like…okay, she's looking at Berry the way I looked at Britts when she was with Artless. Something is fucking up right here.

"We're back!"

And there Britt is, bouncing into the room ahead of a subdued Tina, and I shoot Q and Berry each one more suspicious look before turning to watch my girl do her thang.

"Okay, why is Tina a weird scientist while Brittany is some Ke$ha wannabe?" Hummel asks, but my glare shuts him up pretty fast.

"Just wait and see," Britts says, cocking a hip, and I can't help but grin as the lights go low for them to start performing.

Eh, why not get in one more dig? I lean over to Q, and speak just loud enough for Berry to hear as I ask, "So you'd be into the lesbian sex, though?"


	7. Part 7

**Part 7**

I have chosen to take Q's gritted teeth, exasperated breath, and laser bitch glare as a big, resounding yes to the lesbian sex. I always knew she liked those Cheerios skirts a little more than was healthy. Berry nearly fell out of her chair trying to hear Q enunciate those three little letters. The way she jumped up all startled when the music to Britt and Asian Two's number was _hysterical_.

I haven't been able to get any digs in to either of the little lemonheads yet, since I'm a little busy watching my girl rock those dance moves. God, that body. Those legs. That _ass_.

I'd be jealous of Fefe Dobson (yes, I did just make a musical reference; I've been in glee club for two years, fuck off), since she's playing the role of the pharmacist Britts is trying to get all up on in their performance of 'Your Love Is My Drug' by Ke$ha, but the little Asian looks so damn awkward it's impossible. Well, and my girl keeps shooting me a wink every time she gyrates those hips. I don't say it often, but: _dayuuum_.

Dickless has spent the entire performance glaring at me. And it. Is. Hilarious.

Like his glare could possibly even make a _dent_ in my armor? Please, I'm Santana Fucking Lopez. I've spent three years growing immune to Q's bitch face _and_ I'm a badass. Which is why I haven't once glanced over there. Well, maybe once. To shoot him a big, fat grin after Britts showed off one of her hip rolls to me again.

When they finish, I put my fingers to my lips and whistle while everyone else claps, Q offering a whoop to B. I smile a little at her for that and grin at Britt when I look back to the front where she and Contacts are panting, trying to regain control of their breath after all that hard choreography.

"Excellent, ladies," Schue is saying as he steps to the front with them, clapping a hand on each of their shoulders. "Very creative." He grins, but it falters when he sees that Berry—who else?—is raising her hand. He sighs. "Yes, Rachel?"

"I just wanted to say that although Brittany's outfit gave me somewhat traumatic flashbacks to our disastrous assembly on alcohol awareness—" There are a few muffled giggles here and there and I spy Q smirking almost fondly, but I don't bother to hold back my snort of amusement and therefore earn myself a glare. I grin cheekily back at Berry, who sighs. "I thought it was very well done. Both of you were nearly perfect vocally and I was so pleased to see you were invested enough to be as inventive as to come up with actual costumes!" She grins then, my little indiscretion forgotten, and I smirk to myself.

"Thanks, Ra—" Asian starts to say, but really, no one cares.

"Yeah, where was your costume, Berry?" I ask, and she frowns back at me.

"My cos—"

"Or weren't _you_ invested enough in your work to bother?"

The room goes instantly deadly quiet, except for Berry's gasp of indignation, but I just sit back and wait with a sly grin. Because, of course, the point isn't really Berry's (completely insane) work ethic.

"I am offended by the implication that I put anything less than my all into my every performance, _Santana_, and I insist you take that back immediately!" She fumes, shrugging off Finneptitude's attempt at soothing her with his giant sausage hand. "I would, of course, have gotten into costume and character had this been anything more than an end of the year party, but I didn't feel that singing a 3 minute excerpt from the musical warranted the hours of time that has to be put into both appliance and removal of just the makeup that the character of Elphaba needs!"

Oh, my God, this is awesome. The little Berry looks like a strawberry right now, all red in the cheeks and fuming so hard like a steam engine. Everyone else looks like they're waiting for my impending death, which is kind of weird since usually when me and the Berrster interact it's her they're looking at like that. I just give her a pointed look.

"Chill, Berry. I didn't say you had to wear the Wicked Witch costume," I say, popping my shoulder in a long stretch. She eyes me narrowly.

"What else would have been appropriate for that number?" she asks cautiously.

"Well, you could've taken it out of context and been the geeky chick vying for the star quarterback's attention while he's off dating some cheerleader." All three people in question are immediately squirming. I hide a grin as I go on, because hello, not finished tying it in to her lesbianism yet. "Then I'm thinking you could probably have gone for some knee highs, white polo shirt, green plaid kilt and beret." Ha. Now she's a ghost Berry, she's getting so pale.

"Isn't that what the golf team wears?" Asian One asks, and I grin at him because _finally_. He's being fucking useful.

Berry's already sputtering.

"You know what? I think it _is_," I say thoughtfully, stroking my chin. "Ah, well. I'm sure you wouldn't have a problem getting one of those golf chicks out of her clothes, right, Berry?"

I love the feeling of a good, big, self-satisfied smirk in the afternoon. What with all the confused faces around me (especially Finnconsequential's big derp face) and Brittany's cute, oblivious smile and Berry's absolutely green face. I'm in fucking heaven. I'm about to comment to Berry that now she doesn't need to put on makeup, cause her face looks green enough to get her the lead without even opening that mouth, but the only person who didn't look at least somewhat confused after that little exchange finally opens her mouth.

"Santana, I know what you're doing and you need to stop."

Q's not saying it angrily or even with any intonation, just this calm, even tone with that steady, piercing gaze of hers. I just shoot her a sideways grin, even though I am a little surprised she's caught on to my game. This just means one thing: she really does know Berry's little secret. Something totally went down with them and I'm gonna find out what.

"And what am I doing, Fabray?" I know she won't take the bait, but it's fun to see her expression harden like that.

"How would you feel if someone—"

But she doesn't get to finish, because suddenly Berry has regained her powers of speech, and she instantly hisses to Q-Tip, "You said something to her?"

Okay, _now_ Q looks angry. But Berry isn't faltering under that gaze, just looking all panicked and shit even though everyone in this room is far too stupid to grasp what's happening. Well, except for Britt, who just looks sad. I think about going over to hug her, but I want to see what Q is going to do.

"How could you even ask me that?" she snaps, and Berry visibly flinches at her tone.

Finnadequate scratches his head like a monkey in the silence.

"I'm sorry," Berry says, so softly that I'm pretty sure only me, Q, and Frankenteen were near enough to hear. Q softens, just a little. "But how else would she know?"

I'm about to supply that answer for her—happily so—but Q decides to steal my thunder. Bitch.

"I don't know. Maybe, considering all the comments she's made, she found out you're on the golf team?" Q supplies sarcastically, and the surprised noises going through the room make Berry pale.

"Rachel, you're on the golf team?" Hummel asks, and his eyebrows are almost in his hair gel by now, instead of just being dripped on by it. Interesting that he didn't know.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Stutterwitch adds, taking off her pharmacist glasses.

"Yeah, we totally would've come to your games," Lady Lips says all excited. "It's cool you're in a sport."

All these comments are coming so fast Berry can't do anything but sputter, and I decide to just sit back and watch the mayhem. With a grin. Britts sits beside me and I sling my arm across the back of her chair, and she gives me a brief smile before looking at Berry all sad again.

"I-I-I am _not_ on the golf team!" Berry finally blurts, standing and backing rapidly toward the piano. Everybody looks totally confused by the outburst, though I can see from here that Puckerboy and his owner are starting to figure things out. Their smirks are almost as big as mine. "I mean…I mean, I am, but I'm _not_…you know."

"You're not what?" Asian One prompts, brows all tight together.

Silence. Complete and total awkward silence. This may be my best work yet.

Berry looks like she's either about to pass out or hyperventilate, Hummel and Britts both are looking kinda depressed (though I'm none too happy about the second one), Puckerwhipped and Zizes look smug, Q-Tip is grinding her jaw so hard I'm pretty sure I can _hear_ it now, and everyone else, including Curly and Dopey, look almost exactly like a bunch of puppies who just ran into a glass door. I. Am. Awesome.

Except, of course, Q's gotta ruin it. Damn her.

"Mr. Schuester, I'm ready to sing my song," she says simply, but it's such a tension breaker I have to scowl, because even though a few people still look puzzled, now they're moving on to smiling encouragingly at Q. I can barely restrain myself from kicking her.

"Oh, of course. Floor's all yours," Useless says with a smile and sits, and Q leaps up from her throne to stride regally to the front of the room, glancing at Berry as she passes and then pulling up a stool, though she doesn't sit just yet, just waits for Berry Canary to breathe a deep sigh of relief and take her seat.

I glower at her to let her know she's not off the hook yet, and then at Q for good measure for ruining my masterpiece, until she takes a breath, looks straight at the cuddling lovebirds (because of course Berry dove into Finnessa's ape arms after that close call) and says, all very matter-of-factly, "This song _is_ a reflection on someone in this room. I tried to give you space, move on, but I just can't do it anymore."

And she sits, nods to the band, and I can't help the shit-eating grin on my face, because Berry is as frozen as a turkey. It's moments like these I remember why Q is my best friend. The bitch.


	8. Part 8

**A/N:** To this anonymous review: "Okay, I'm sorry, I love your work, but this is terrible. Santana is being downright cruel. To EVERYONE. This version of Santana doesn't deserve Britney. Rachel and Quinn obviosly aren't ready to come out, and Santana is trying to visiously force them out of the closet, for her own amusement! She's still in the closet herself! And none of the other people deserve to be called such cruel names, they didn't do anything to her! This is ridiculous, and you might just be losing a reader."

This fic is on the verge of being a crack!fic. Of course it's not right for Santana to try and push anyone out of the closet, nor is it very nice of her to call anyone all those nicknames. However, first of all, this is a work of fiction and it's all meant to be humorous; it's not meant to be taken so seriously (and there is more to Santana's motivations than we've seen so far). If it upsets you, then yes, please don't read it. I didn't realize there was that big a problem with it since most of my readers seem pleased, and I hope you don't stop reading the rest of my fics because of this particular one, because it's the only one with these kinds of elements in it (although I do recommend steering clear of 'Misson: Be Mine' because she does employ some nasty tactics to get what she wants, though she does feel guilty about it, and 'Watch Me Burn' because in the beginning she's just downright evil). But if you do, that's your choice of course. Second, the nickname thing I view as kind of in-character for Santana. It doesn't matter that these people have done nothing to her; it's just how she thinks. She has been calling people Wheezy, Wheels, Dwarf, Finnessa, Tubbers, etc., since season one. It's just what she does. So no, I don't agree with Santana's actions; I do hope that you continue reading my other fics, and that if you continue to read this one, it's with an open mind to the fact that it is meant to be funny, not hurtful. If you don't, that's okay, too.

**Part 8**

All right, I take it back. I have no idea why I'm best friends with a pansy ass like Quinn Fabray. There is just so much wrong with what she's doing right now it's not even funny. I mean, her opening statement was great and all, but now that she's actually singing? I want to wring her neck, because she's not looking at Berry anymore—or at anything, really. She's either staring at the floor or closing her eyes, and she didn't even bother to change the _pronouns_ in the lyrics.

Yep. She is sitting up there on that stool, proudly (not) crooning Colbie Caillat's 'Oxygen' to let Berry know she wants up on that, and she doesn't even have the friggin' balls to say 'she.' Saddest part is I can't tell if it's because she really is a damn coward, or if it's because she's protecting Berry like she was before when I had her backed into a corner and she was flailing like a blind rabbit. Which…I'd do it, for B, if I had to.

But come on. You don't get up there and make a bold statement like that and then _avoid_ eye contact like a nerd reading his existential examination of 'Lord of the Rings' at a Jane Addams Academy assembly. You sing a song like this, you get your lady in a room, you sit her down, and you sing that damn song good and proud and you look her straight in the eye.

Gah. It kills me that I still have so much to teach this bitch.

Brittany is swaying back and forth next to me like everybody but Big Foot and Berry has started doing, bumping into my shoulder with a happy grin that I can't help but return. The boyman just has his orangutan arm slung far across the back of Berry's chair, but she's not leaning into his side anymore. No, I'm pretty sure she's actually…_crying_.

Holy shit, Q's making her cry! Maybe this _will_ get a ball rolling…

I decide to wait and see what happens, watching Berry try to subtly wipe her cheeks with her sleeves without Finnconsiderate noticing, though I kinda want to tell her that even if she was rubbing her nose on _his_ sleeve he wouldn't get it, rolling my eyes when Q's voice starts to shake a little on the last '_Oh, baby, I will be your lady_' and then she just _has_ to make it worse and let a tear go when she sings '_I will make you happy_.' God, she's such a friggin' sap.

I've got to wonder what the hell happened between these two. I'll admit I never really paid much attention to their relationship before, because, well, let's face it, I don't really care when I can't use it to my advantage, but I got the feeling that they didn't like each other so much. Of course, now it looks like it could've been misplaced sexual tension. I mean, hello, they were the _only_ members of a club where all you do is talk about sex. If that doesn't spell 'pressed lemons', I don't know what does.

Still, looks like at least Q has realized what's the what behind all those nasty names and pornographic drawings, and something had to have triggered that. And Auntie Tana is going to be finding out what. But first thing's first: get Berry out of that fucking closet.

Q-Tip has finally finished her serenade (and hopefully crying, because for God's sake that's just embarrassing), and everyone is whooping for her. Apparently she did a really good job.

"That was so pretty, Q!" Britts exclaims with a grin.

"Damn, girl, you need to get your ass up there more often," Jones comments, and Q gives her that 'oh, you took me in when I was living in a baconless hellhole and now I will always love you, my sister from another mister' smile.

My Q smile is cooler. It's titled: 'you're such a bitch and I hate you but because we're so similar, killing you would be a form of suicide so I kind of love you like a sister, too.'

"Beautiful, Quinn, just beautiful." Oh, God. Is Curly really wiping his eyes with his tie? Fuck's sake. There's nothing wrong with a little male sensitivity, because frankly if you can't do it you're just a robot (have you seen how often I cry? That's right, I'm human, bitches), but this is an example of a man who cries too much. I think I'll call him Weepy from now on.

Q mutters a thank you to everyone, but she keeps glancing toward the one person who usually never shuts up after a performance, and seriously. I'm gonna have to put her through bitch training camp, because she's getting about as obvious as the rest of these dorks. It's making me sick. I need someone else in this room to be as subtle and (almost as) awesome as I am, or I will go insane.

Berry, of course, is just wiping her cheeks and sniffling, and this is when Finnessa decides to notice. Even though she's been crying since about the second chorus. Beard or not, how is this guy appealing to her? At least Karofsky notices when I'm feeling like shit. Granted, all he says is, "You look like shit", but it's an acknowledgment that isn't coming fifty years after the fact like Finnept over here.

And _this_ is what he says: "Rach, you're crying!"

I would love to hit his head against a brick wall right now.

"Hm? N-no, I'm fine," she mumbles, trying to regain strength in her voice, "I just—"

"Why are you crying?" he asks, and pulls her toward his huge frame and it's kind of scary because now she looks like a kitten trying to wiggle out of the clutches of a grizzly bear. "I'm not gonna get back together with Quinn, if that's what you're worried about, babe." I'm pretty sure I just died a little inside. He really thinks that was for him? Q looks like she's about to explode with fury, and Berry has gone completely still. "I mean, that was totally good, Quinn, but I'm with Rachel, for good, now and—"

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me?"

Okay, that was me. I'm sorry, but really? _Really_? Finncontinent is so startled by the sound of my voice he jumps and Berry is out of his arms and—

"Santana, language!" Weepy scolds, but come on, like I'm going to take that seriously?

"Hey, douche bag!"

CRASH!

"Finn!"

"Dude!"

"Are you all right?"

"What happened?"

"Ow."

I cannot help myself. The dope has literally fallen backward in his chair like a 2nd grader who wouldn't stop tilting his chair back. I have never laughed this hard. Tears are literally falling down my face, and it doesn't help that Britts has started laughing with me, even though she's petting my back to help me calm down.

"It's not funny! That really hurt!" the toddler yelps angrily, rubbing the back of his head as he jumps to his feet and oh, sweet Lord, this is the best thing ever.

Q is trying her hardest not to laugh her ass off like I am, but I hear the rare squeak and giggle make its way past the hand over her mouth and it just spurs me on. Berry scowls at me before stroking Big Foot's arm, still wiping her cheek with her other hand, and asking quietly, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's the stupid chair's fault," he grumbles, kicking at it.

Could this be any more priceless? Classic Finnocent behavior: everything is about me, nothing is my fault, chairs shall take my wrath. He should have his own sitcom.

"We'll get you a new one, buddy," Weepy reassures him, like it's a big deal even though there are _tons_ of the things sitting around, but I don't get to make a snarky comment like I would love to at the moment, because my special guest star has arrived in the doorway, looking like he'd rather be cleaning Coach Sylvester's trophies with a toothpick than here.

I grin. "Karofsky, glad you could make it!"


	9. Part 9

**A/N:** I am so nervous about posting this it's not even funny.

I really hate feeling so nervous about offending people. Sigh. But I hope you all kind of saw this coming a little bit? That Santana was going to do something huge like this? And also, if you think the song in this part is offensive, I sincerely apologize. I think it's hysterical, personally, which is part of why I chose it. I thought about doing something more typical like 'If You Were Gay' or something, but I could just see Santana doing a song as 'in your face' as this one to drive in her point. I cut out a lot of the song that had nothing to do with her point anyway, so…bleh. Just read. Tar and feather me later.

**Song:** 'Lez Be Friends' by The Midnight Beast

**Part 9**

Big Foot looks like he's about to blow a fuse, what with the combined embarrassment of falling on his ass and the appearance of Karofsky in 'his' choir room.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" is the first thing that's said, and I instantly move to my feet to answer for my already quivering beard. He looks like he's going to bolt at any moment, and I just can't have that.

"I invited him, Einstein." A glance at Britts makes me falter because she's suddenly drooping, and I hate her looking so sad, so I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly and give her a smile before I go on. I think it works a little, because she gives me a tiny grin. "He happens to be the special guest star I told Mr. Schue about."

Weepy frowns, confused. "You didn't tell me about any guest star…"

I tilt my head mock-thoughtfully before I continue on my way to Car of Sky (that's _his_ Indian name). "Hm. Must be the telepathic network is down. Anyway, Dave here is singing my number with me, aren't you, Davy?"

I shoot him a big grin while I wrap my arm around his in what appears to be a friendly gesture, but is really just me making sure he doesn't run for it, because he's looking at me so sourly I want to smack him upside the head and send him to bed without dinner. Yes, he looks _that_ surly about this.

He grumbles out something that resembles a 'yes', so I show my grin to Curly instead, and he's unable to withstand it. He nods grudgingly and tells everyone to get seated for our number, and he actually literally gets a new chair for Finnept to sit in. Like the big baby couldn't grab the one next to the one he fell in. I watch carefully as Q passes by Berry to get back to her seat, but they only exchange a glance that Berry quickly ends before sitting solemnly. I can see Q measuring me from her seat, all kinds of suspicious, and everyone else just looks sort of grumpy about the whole thing, though Hummel is giving his 'you can trust me' smile to Karofsky. Normally I would be upset about this, but it's really no big deal to me if he actually starts getting through to the closet case now.

I wink at Britt before Karofsky tugs at my arm and turns me toward the piano so we can talk privately. This wasn't in the plans, so I'm totally pissed when I growl, "What?"

"I don't wanna do this," he whines.

"Well, you already frikkin' agreed to it and nobody backs out on Santana Lopez."

I see him struggling with something before he whispers, jerking his head behind us, "Isn't this kinda mean, though? I mean, neither of _us_ is out and maybe Berry—"

"Maybe you don't want to go down that road, Dave." I scowl meaningfully. "Because if we're keeping score on who's been the meanest to Streisand over there, I guarantee that you get number one without trying." I pause for a moment to consider. "Well, maybe you'd have some competition from Hudson."

He sighs, his shoulders even moving with it. "I don't know…"

"Look, just trust me, okay?" Apparently it's time to get serious, so I move in a little closer and make him meet my eyes as I say, "This is for all three of us, not just me."

His brow is instantly wrinkling. "How—"

I miss the Dave who didn't ask so many questions and just insisted he wasn't gay while doing whatever I told him to.

"Hey, I told you, you do this one last thing for me and we're good, comprende? No more blackmail, no more big bad Auntie Tana to worry about spilling your big ass secret all over the place."

He grinds his teeth a couple times, glancing over his hulking shoulder at the impatient group behind us, and gives me one sharp, jerky nod. I smirk triumphantly and start to turn, but he snatches my arm and says in a snarl, a bit of the old Karofsky peeking out, "You better not be lying to me."

His grip on my arm is kind of tight, but really, this dude is just a big gay pile of mush on the inside, so I just grin and pat his hand. "Cross my heart."

He nods, reassured, and we finally turn to face the group at large, pulling out our Bully Whips berets from our pockets as we do so, because, come on, they're kind of awesome.

"Are…you two ready then?" Weepy asks uncertainly, and I give a smirk.

"Hit it," I call to the band, and Puckerwhipped's eyebrows have already shot into his nonexistent hair, a grin landing on his face at the opening music.

So far Berry just looks confused as me and Karofsky do a little loose choreography at the front. It was hard to get him coordinated enough to do this shit, but eventually he got some basic stuff down. I get to do all the hip gyrating, because, really, that would just be horrifying.

I'm getting butterflies in my stomach as we call back and forth to each other with the syllables of "The Midnight Beast" and then Karofsky sings hoarsely, "_It's the year of the beast; you better have a shower before you come out tonight, girl_."

It's a little rusty, but I need him to do this, because I can sing to Berry, but I can't sing to myself.

I move toward the group and sink toward the ground, running my hands down my thighs as I purr to Brittany, "_Cause you're gonna get diiirty._"

She giggles girlishly and I grin at her before retreating back to Karofsky to sing, "_If a girl won't come round_—"

I feel like I might vomit as he eyes me up and down, as per my instructions, and rejoins, "_She must be a lesbian_."

I close my eyes immediately because I just can't take the pressure and internally curse. I should've had us scare the shit out of Berry first. My edit of this song is too brilliant to waste, though, so I suck in a breath and force myself to sing, "_Or turns men down_."

I feel Karofsky gesture at me, probably smiling at the glee club like he's supposed to as he repeats, "_She must be a lesbian_."

"_If she don't like men_—"

Again with that terrifying line that's still making my stomach clench.

"_She'll let you down lightly_."

Karofsky leans in close to me so I can feel his breath, looking like he's whispering the next part to me, "_You must be a lesbian_."

I feel his poke my side, cause he's probably wondering what the fuck's wrong with me, but I can barely breathe. Except then…I hear Britts scream out, "Yay, Sanny!"

And then Q is whistling, and Hummel is clapping, and Wheezy, and then it sounds like almost everybody is applauding and whooping, "Go, San!"

And I can't help but grin and open my eyes, sliding right into the next part with more confidence. Partly because, well, this is where Berry comes in.

Karofsky is going on, looking kind of sick singing his lines, "_I'm at a party, I'm a girl machine, I'm gonna have some sex with them all if you know what I mean._" I wink at him playfully as though we're conversing instead of embarrassing the shit out of ourselves in front of the entire glee club, and he goes on, "_It's like a sweet sixteen_—"

"_But! The girls are eighteen_," I croon, grinning devilishly.

"_And I can't wait to peel 'em like a tangerine_."

I wish I had had Puckerboy sing this. He would've sounded so much more natural saying something as sick as that.

Whatever, I have to focus. I saunter over to Berry, who's looking more contemplative than terrified, as I expected, though as soon as she notices me—ah, there it is. Deer in headlights. I grin and sink into a crouch before her, placing my hands on her knees as I sing, "_I'm gonna g-go down on 'em like a submarine_."

She instantly flinches away from me, as though burned, and I just give her a grin and a wink before moving back to my feet while Karofsky (frighteningly convincingly) giggles and says, "_Submarines are fun, hehehehehe_."

I sway my hips walking up the risers to Britts, who's blushing adorable pink. "_I walk to a hottie and turn on my charm_."

"_But before I can start I hear a rape alarm_." Yes, I know that edit doesn't make any sense, but I wanted to sing that part to Britt, so fuck off.

I give her a wink and a kiss on the cheek before waltzing back to Karofsky while he sings, "_It's going_—" we both cover our ears for the sound effect that one dude on the keyboard made for us "—_I can't feel my ears I think they're bleeding from the_—" ear covering again "—_I can't work out why the girls don't fancy me; I'm the most popular boy in the school!_"

Finnadequate looks particularly disgruntled by this line.

I smirk and lean in toward Karofsky, looking pointedly at a scowling Berry as I sing my line conspiratorially, "_Oh, wait, I bet she likes kissing girls_."

Her eyes go immeasurably wide and I have to fight a snicker when a few heads are scratched while me and Karofsky go back into the edited chorus, only this time we're singing to Berry, who starts to squirm worse and worse every time 'lesbian' is sung. But she's not under the radar for too long, because now it's Huckleberry Finn's turn.

I swivel to face him and try to look as matter-of-fact as possible as I sing, Karofsky still adding that Berry must be a lesbian behind me, "_If a girl won't kiss, or get down with this_—" I gesture to his body and the boyman actually turns a little red "—_if she doesn't fancy these, she must bat for the other team_."

"_She's a lesbian_," Karofsky adds helpfully, and I step back because Berry looks sufficiently disturbed now—probably about as bad as I did at the beginning of this thing—and it's time to wrap up with the part I kept in just for her and another edited chorus directed at me. Only this time I'm not so nervous. I'm actually grinning as we prance back to the piano and Karofsky says while gesturing at Berry, "_If a girl can act_—"

"_She must be a thespian_," I offer cheekily.

"_Is that right?_" he mock-ponders, and I yelp, "_Yeah!_"

He nods brightly and returns, "_She must be a thespian_" before we leap right back into my edited version of the chorus, and this time I'm smirking proudly as I sing my parts, rolling my eyes at ghost Berry. Honestly, it could've been worse. We could've just sang the "_That girl, she must be a lesbian_" sections in her face, and we all know that goes on forever.

When we're finished, Karofsky looks red in the face from all the embarrassment of that half-skit, half-song, but everyone is clapping (well, except for Frankenteen, Berry, Q, and Weepy, who all look varying degrees of confused, furious, and horrified), and it puts a grin on my face, especially when my girl whistles for me again. It's only when the applause dies down that Big Foot finally speaks, because yes, it appears he's finally caught on.

"Rach. Are you g-gay?"

He practically choked on the word, dear Lord.

The room is suddenly completely silent, and Berry won't look up from where her knuckles are whitening around the edges of her chair. Well, until Puck says with a snicker, "Dude. She's on the _golf_ team."

And then her head shoots up and she looks at Finnconsiderate for a moment, glances back to a solemn Q, and finally glares at me. I just try to look as encouraging as possible, which is, frankly, a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be, but it feels a little better now that I do, too. But she doesn't take it as encouragement, just glares harder, and she doesn't take the easy way out, because she could still easily say that she's not, that obviously my choreography just required a boy and a girl and they were easy access because they were in the front row.

Instead she looks at Hudson, stands, and hurries out of the room as fast as she can.

"Shit," I mumble, because Christ, I expected her to be braver or smarter than that. I didn't expect her to run, but Q was apparently prepared, because she's on her feet and she snatches my elbow in a grip so tight I wonder how I beat her ass at the beginning of the year with such ease.

"You're fixing this," she snarls, and I don't fight her on it.

Because, well, maybe this wasn't how I planned things to go. Maybe I wasn't expecting Berry to be so fucking scared. Maybe I feel a little guilty.

Maybe.


	10. Part 10

**A/N:** Last part, everyone. I'm glad most everyone enjoyed the ride. :)

**Part 10**

"Hey, Q, I'm really not going anywhere, so you don't have to dig your nails into my arm anymore."

"I know."

"Maybe we should call _you_ Man Hands."

Q-Tip has chosen to ignore this one, which is sad, because normally this would've been the start of an epic bitchfest to top Zizes and Q's run for prom queen. But she's far too focused on her mission of finding Berry, wherever she's run off to, to tangle with me, I guess. I kind of miss the old days, when the slightest change in _intonation_ could set her off. It was hysterical watching her get all worked up for absolutely nothing.

This isn't as fun. There's too much of an aura of worry or some shit around her for it to be a good time for me.

Still, this isn't about a good time. This is about finding Berry and straightening this shit out, so I grit my teeth and bear it. Well, not the nail-digging part. I manage to wrench my arm free of her grasp after a little struggle, but she doesn't even notice, and I realize she's muttering under her breath.

"This is all your fault. You have to go messing around in people's lives like it's some kind of game, and look what happens. Why couldn't you have just left this one alone, hm? Would that really have been so freaking difficult?"

"Yep," I answer, and she jumps a little, pausing to glare at me before marching off again.

"Why? Why couldn't you just leave Rachel alone?" she barks, and I scowl at her.

"Why did you?"

She does a quick double-take, brow knit tight. "What?"

"You obviously knew Berry was a closet case, same as you and me, but it looks to me like your white ass didn't get around to doing anything about it until today—which, by the way, that was the absolute worst attempt at claiming your woman that I have ever seen."

"I wasn't trying to claim her," she hisses, suddenly not meeting my eyes and I know she's feeling all sensitive and shit. "I was just…"

I soften a little, matching her pace. "What, Q?"

"I wanted to let her know she has another option, and that it's okay. But I didn't want to scare her off by being completely obvious about it, and then you had to go and muck it up anyway!" It's amusing to me how she can start off talking so lowly, vulnerably, and end practically shrieking at me.

"You can say 'fuck', Q. God will not smite you, I swear, and if He's pissed when you get up there, you can tell Him it was peer pressure," I offer, and she shoots me a weak glare. "Look, Quinn, I get the whole wanting your woman thing. And I don't know what the hell happened between you two, but I do know you handled it all wrong."

She glares at me, affronted. "How—"

"Because I know you, and you're just like me. We're fuck-ups, Q. It's what we do. Add to that that what Berry needs is a supportive friend, not a longing lover, and, well…"

Q's gaze trails ahead of her as we walk in silence for a few paces, and I realize that that's what Britts has been trying to do for me all along, why we keep doing this weird push and pull with our relationship ever since I admitted to myself what Berry will only admit enough to join the golf team. She's had to tow the line between being a friend who'll push me to get my head out of my ass a bit at a time and being the woman I want to be with when my head's screwed on top of my neck like it should be. I've just been confused as fuck and completely missed it. Damn.

And Q…well, to me it looks like Q couldn't even see the line, so she just stayed on that one side and expected Berry to work her shit out on her own. Which never, ever works. Believe me. It just does not. Even Hummel, the proudest gay in possibly the entire Midwest, couldn't slip out of his closet until Jones gave him a taste of acceptance from a friend.

"Rachel!"

Jesus! Way to scare the shit out of somebody, Q. I shoot her a quick glower that she completely misses because she's too busy hurrying toward Berry, who's already trying to scurry back into the girl's bathroom. Ah, well, I'll get her later.

I trot to catch up while Q-Tip pushes the bathroom door shut, basically cornering the little diva with her body, and says, "Wait, Rachel. I—"

Berry won't face her head-on, and I can see she's been crying. I may feel a twinge of guilt. Possibly. It could just be an itch, or something I ate. In any case, it only gets worse when Berry notices me and her eyes widen in alarm before she gives Q a betrayed look—and starts crying again. For fuck's sake. What is with all the crying today? I don't know how much more of this shit I can take.

"What do you _want_ from me?" she sobs, covering her face with her hands. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

Q glares at me a moment before focusing all her energy on Berry, and instantly there's a shift. She suddenly looks like a big, romantic sap. Great. I'm stuck in a hallway with a crying diva and Romeo, the female version. Kill me now. Just do it.

Q is cupping Berry's cheek, but it's not gaining her any attention. "Rachel." Nor is that, so she takes a breath and says in a voice I'm pretty sure I've only heard her use when we were trying to get Lord Tubbington out from under the dresser that time we decided to have a water balloon fight in the house, "Rae."

And she's got Berry's attention. Wow. I've got to learn that trick.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I tried to kiss you after prom," Q says, and my jaw practically hits the floor. Berry's just listening intently. "Not…not because I didn't want to, but because it scared you…back to _him_." She bows her head a little and Berry sniffles and oh, my, _God_.

Everything totes makes sense now! I remember thinking Q and Berry were looking a little more chummy after the whole Hummel-Queen thing, but everything seemed to go back to normal the next day, so my guess is that Q drove Berry home and tried to kiss her, but then she went all gay panic on her and ran off, which was why even though Finnconsiderate was a total douche bag to her at prom, she was all clinging back to him because she had to have been thinking, "Okay, this dickwad is the only thing I've got left and this way he can't have her, either." But then he fucked things up for her.

He breaks up with her, she goes all batshit crazy with revenge because her girl doesn't want her and on top of that the jackass doesn't want her and he's going after the girl she wants again, which she knows she can't do a fucking thing about, and so that's what all that 'I just want somebody to love me' shit was about. She totes had a specific 'somebody' in mind, and if that somebody isn't Berry Canary here, I'll eat my Indigo Girls tickets. I _knew_ she put weird emphasis on 'she' with the whole 'she has love' thing.

"I never meant to hurt you in any way, Rachel, you have to know that," Q-Tip is saying, and I bring my focus back around just in time to see Berry give her a small nod and Q breath a sigh of relief before she drops her hand from her face. "And you also have to know that I had _nothing_ to do with Santana's little…outing in there."

And now she's glaring at me, and Berry won't quite meet my gaze, but she manages to sniffle out, "Why did you do it? I-I know you hate me, but I never thought you hated me this much."

I scoff. "I don't hate you, dwarf."

Now both of them are staring at me, blinking incredulously.

"Look, I used to, but this, sadly, wasn't one of my brilliant revenge plots." I heave a sigh. "All right, I'm gonna admit a few things here, and if _either_ of you _ever_ tell _anybody_ what went down in this hallway, you will be feeling my razor blades, got it?"

Q just rolls her eyes, but Berry gulps and they both nod, so I grit my teeth and prepare to…open up. Ugh.

"I'm sure you both know that I'm as gay as Berry, Berry Quite Contrary over here, and I'm heels over head in love with Britts."

"I-I believe the expression is-is head over heels." Of course, Berry just has to interrupt. I glare. "But please, continue." She bites her lip sheepishly, and the smile Q gives her makes me want to heave.

"It's been a few months, but I know B wants me to come out a little bit more. At least to the glee club. And yeah, Berry, I know I should move at my own pace or some shit, and I am. I wanted to take this step, but…I was scared. So…when I found your picture in the yearbook, on the golf team, I was…" Ugh, I can't say this. "Iwaspsyched."

I see them exchange a confused glance, and it's Q who raises her eyebrow and says, "What?"

I groan, muffling my voice with my hand as I repeat, "I was psyched."

Again, with the glance exchanging, and Berry says, "I apologize, Santana, but I believe you're going to have to speak up a little. We're having a difficult time hearing y—"

"I said I was PSYCHED, okay?" I huff, and roll my eyes for good measure. "Look, I was the only…closeted gay person in this school before. Besides Karofsky, but we all know he's not coming out of his closet until we all travel by jetpack." They both look surprised and I seriously have concerns about their gaydars, but that's not really the issue here. "Hummel is so out you can spot him by satellite, and even though no one says anything, everyone knows that the golf team is chock full of lesbians. So yeah, I felt alone, and then I found out that you were…just like me, and I didn't feel _as_ scared about…coming out anymore, as long as you were coming out with me. Even if it was just to glee club."

There's complete and total silence. Q looks like she totally gets where I was coming from, but also like she could kill me for doing it to Berry. And Berry just looks shocked. I'm gonna go ahead and congratulate myself for striking Rachel Berry speechless.

Yaaay.

I'm feeling just like a little bit uncomfortable here, so I decide to add: "It still doesn't mean I like you."

Q tries to hide her smirk and eye-roll. Berry just sighs, shaking her head a little, even though I could swear she's trying not to smile, too. She should just give in. I'm awesome, and she may as well stop trying to fight that inevitability.

"So this whole time…that's what this was about? You not wanting to come out alone?" Berry finally asks, disbelieving.

I dip my head. "Pretty much."

"Why didn't you come to me, talk to me about it beforehand at least? We could have…come out when we were _both_ ready, together," she points out, frowning now. She's probably just upset she didn't get to come up with an 'Operation: Coming Out' PowerPoint.

I shrug. "Because it was the last day of school and I didn't have time for that shit if I wanted to prove to Britts I was still moving forward."

"Oh, my God." Berry is shaking her head in disbelief, looking like she wants to pace really badly, so it's just sort of turning into her swaying her body back and forth while Q looks on all concerned.

"Listen, Berry." When she just keeps muttering to herself, I snap louder, "I said listen up. I'm only saying this once." Now she's looking at me. Good. I look her straight in the eye, and if you're wondering, yes, it is a little painful when I say, "I'm sorry, Berry."

She looks like she might pass out, and even Q is staring at me like I grew another head.

"I didn't realize how far in the closet you actually were, and I was only thinking about myself. It wasn't fair." Okay, that's it, I'm not saying anything more than that. Ugh. I'm never admitting when I'm wrong again—that was painful enough. I've hit my quota. Shake it off. "That said, I've got to wonder, Berry, who has your balls?"

I wonder how wide I can actually make Berry's eyes in one conversation.

"Ex-_excuse_ me?"

"Seriously. I thought you'd be all out and proud and shit; I mean, you're proud enough about your dads. There isn't a person in the county who doesn't know you've got them, so I thought you'd be all over the being gay thing. What are you so fucking scared of, huh?" I eye her for a moment and she can't hold the contact for long.

"Everything, Santana. I'm scared of everything you are." She's so dramatic. "The way people will look at me, talk about me, think of me. Only I'll get it worse than you ever would, and you know why that is? Because I'm _already_ a loser. I'm…socially awkward, and I don't dress to everyone else's liking, and I'm loud and opinionated and far too ambitious, enthusiastic, and selfish for the standards of today's frighteningly apathetic teenagers, I have a big nose and two gay dads and small breasts and I'm just…everything that you aren't." Q looks like she's about to hug her, but Berry, oddly enough, hasn't looked her way once since we started talking. "So yes, I'm terrified of coming out, because there are enough reasons to hate me."

I hate these awkward silences. I hate them even more when they're broken by sniffles, because Berry is crying again, arms folded tight against her small breasts, and Q sways toward her but halts when she lifts her head and speaks again.

"But you know, I could handle all that…if I didn't think my fathers would hate me," she sobs, voice cracking on 'hate' and my jaw may as well have just fucked the floor.

"What? The fuck are you talking about, Berry? Your dads are gay, if anyone—"

"Yes, exactly, Santana. My dads are gay, and I'm gay, and that is precisely the kind of prejudice-building cliche that they have been fighting against their _entire_ lives. So forgive me if I'm inclined to believe that I would, in fact, be disappointing my fathers by further supporting it."

She huffs out a sigh and wipes her cheeks roughly with her sleeves, and I have to look at Q to see what the fuck she thinks we should do. Except she's useless, because she just looks heartbroken. Where's Brittany when you need her? Two emotionally stunted bitches should not be the ones expected to comfort the crying people.

"Rachel, you can't help who you are…your dads know that," Q says quietly, and Berry looks at her for the first time in a long while. More tears, lovely.

"I'm afraid they'll forget when it's their own daughter," she whimpers.

If Q was a cartoon, her heart would've leapt out of her chest, cracked in half, and fallen to the floor. That would be pretty funny to watch, actually, but I have things to say, so I turn back to Berry.

"Fuck 'em."

Ha, there are the owl eyes again. "Excuse me?"

"If Elton and Barry can't accept you for who you are, then fuck them." I shrug. "You can't repress who you are just because of your parents, Berry. Look how well that worked out for Q." Just in case they both forgot, which by the glare on Q's face, she didn't, I'm going to remind them. "Pregnant. At sixteen. With _Puck's_ baby." Q looks like she's going to axe murder me in my sleep tonight. See? This is the kind of fun I wanted to have earlier. She is hysterical when she's angry. "So, if Bert and Ernie can't deal, whatevs. You can come shack up with me for a while." Her eyebrows just hit the ceiling. "And if my parents hate me, too, then we'll invade Q's house."

I grin cockily at her and Q just rolls her eyes before looking back to Berry, whose lower lip is trembling. Oh, for crying out loud, no more bawling! That was not meant to start the water works back up, damnit. I had enough of this shit when Q was a balloon.

"You…you would let me come live with you?" Berry asks in a whisper.

I can't do much but shrug, because yeah, Berry's annoying and yeah, I would probably want to kill her after like five minutes of her living with me and trying to bedazzle my room and organize our toothbrushes by color, but… "We lezzies gotta stick together, right?"

She grins at me, and it actually is…a little bit cute. But only because she looks like a five year old. When she starts to move forward, as if to hug me, though, I have to put a stop to this and put my hands up defensively.

"Whoa there, Streisand, I didn't mean 'stick together' literally."

And it appears Berry is actually growing a sense of humor, because she just _smiles_ and shakes her head. Someone note the date and time. Or fuck that, go find the love of your life and spend the day with them or some shit, this could be the end.

"So you coming out with me, or what?" I ask, for confirmation, because I'm seriously not sure at this point.

Berry pauses, tilting her head to consider, and Q looks like if she was sitting, she'd be perched on the very edge of her chair. And then Berry smirks and oh, God, my life's over.

"On one condition."

"What?"

"I can't just tell you right this minute! You might back out, and what would be the fun in that?" she asks wryly.

The fuck? Where has _this_ Berry been hiding? I could get down with this (not in the literal sense, but still). Still, I have to glare right now. I've got a rep to keep.

"Fine," I growl, and she reaches to shake on it, because she's still Berry Canary.

I roll my eyes but give her a firm shake and we exchange smirks (one a little more perfected than the other, obviously) before my attention goes to Q, who's practically giddy right now.

"How 'bout you, Q-Pie? Taking the brave road with us or sitting this round out?"

She's struggling with that, which surprises me a little, and then her gaze lands on Berry, who squirms a little uncomfortably under Q's gaze and looks away, prompting her to prompt quietly, "Rachel?"

"I don't know what you want from me," is all she says, and she's not being accusatory or anything; she just genuinely doesn't know, and come to think of it, I'm not really all that surprised by this considering Q went from apparently hating her guts to trying to kiss her to being pissed at her to longing for her from afar in like…a week. But that's the thing with Q, you know. You've got to be ready for the mood swings, or they will bite you in the ass.

Like right now, because Q looks torn between crying and throwing a fit.

"What do you _think_? God, is the only way to get through to you to talk like Santana?" she snaps, and Berry's jaw is flapping in a way that makes me wish I had a camera. "I _fucking_ love you." Whoa. Go, Q! I'd clap, but she appears to be on a roll. "And I want you to love me, too, and not in the chickenshit way you're doing it now—all the way, with me, in public, no Finn, no boys, no beards. Just us. That's what I want, okay?"

I feel like Q deserves a medal. What? It's hard for me and her to articulate what we want. Usually we just expect you to know. Or we manipulate you into doing it.

Oh, fuck, I'm taking her medal back. Berry's about to cry again. I don't care if she's smiling, this needs to stop.

"I do love you," she says, and Q is all smiles and Berry puts her hand on her neck, drawing her down and—oh, come on! I don't need to see that!

I've decided to fake gag until they stop. It's not working. No, no tongues! Stop it!

"Okay, just stop, that's—no." I step to them, prying them apart by their shoulders and wrinkling my nose at them. "Never do that in front of me again. _Ever_."

Q just smirks at me, while Berry is blushing big time. "Because that's not hypocritical at all. I forgot, how many steps are there in the Brittany's Tongue Addicts program?"

"Okay, first of all, her tongue was like personally crafted by God Himself. And second, you should feel privileged to have two girls as hot as us making out in front of you. You two…" I wrinkle my nose again. "Cats. Heat. You get where I'm going with this."

Q rolls her eyes. "Can we go back to glee club now? The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can all find privacy away from each other."

Berry blushes and leans into Q, who grins, and fuck. They're going to be one of those sickeningly sweet couples you see that makes you want to fling food at them, aren't they? What have I done?

Oh, they're on their way back. Ah, well. I scurry to catch up, trying my best to ignore their whispers and giggles behind me because I really did enjoy my lunch today. It's only when we get to the choir room door that I choose to break the semi-silence with, "So how do you want to do this?"

Berry and Q exchange glances, and that's when that scary determined glint enters Berry's eye and she strides ahead of us, standing with her hands on her hips at the front of the choir room. I frown at Q and we come up behind her as she calls for attention.

"Fellow glee clubbers! And…Dave," she says, frowning his direction, and I almost snort when I realize I forgot to tell him he was free to go. "We three have something of great importance to inform you all, and we hope that you will all accept this information with the same compassion and understanding that you have extended to all of our various members during trying times." I'm expecting her to just blurt it, and brace myself, but then she turns to Finnadequate and says, "Finn, I apologize, but I believe it is time we terminate our short-lived relationship in light of…well." She frowns to herself and we all wait, but she never says anything.

Instead, she turns on her heel, grabs Q's neck again, and plants one on her. Q's arms are already around her and I see her eyebrows pop up a little in surprise, but she doesn't seem to be having a problem with the PDA and if she doesn't, then…well, you know what? Berry had the right idea.

I step up the risers and in one swift motion I've got Brittany's lips and tongue occupied, and I muffle her surprised little noise, grinning into her mouth, because _fuck_ this feels good. I am kissing _my_ girl in front of everybody, and there are no noises of disgust or anything. Just a few claps and whoops and the sweet, sweet sound of Finnessa stomping out and Wheels' wheels squeaking away. That's right. Mine.

Why is someone interrupting? Whose throat is clearing? Shut up!

I huff and pull away, glaring over my shoulder and snapping, "What?" only to see Berry smirking at me from Q's arms.

"The golf team meets at two on Tuesdays and Thursdays during the summer, Santana. I'll see you there."

Brittany giggles.

Shit. I suck at golf.


End file.
